Piano Lad
by QueenOfBeasts
Summary: Sam lived a fairly normal life. An up-and-coming musician in New York City, he's a happy guy. That is until he meets a man and woman who share so many of his traits, it's more than a little scary. Could it just be a coincidence, or something more?
1. Prologue

**A/N (A\N? I dunno.) I started another fic. I'm bad. I already have a several multi-chaptered stories going on for several different fandoms at the moment and I start another one. Shoot me now. ANYWHO! This plot bunny was released into my brain several weeks ago, and wouldn't stop chewing on my nerve endings. To get it to stop making my have random muscle spasms, I wrote it down. And now, I think I love it. I will now stop my yammering and get on with the disclaimer and such.**

**I DO NOT own Hetalia. If I did... I'm not even going to finish that sentence. The only thing I own are my OCs.**

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><p>A hooded figure dashed through the streets of New York City, a mysterious bundle in it's arms. It ran in and out of alleyways, making sure to keep to the shadows. It looked around franticly, searching. It's eyes landed on what it sought: a building. This building looked like any other in the city, except for the sign above the doorway.<p>

_Saint Nicholas Home for Boys_

This was it. This is what the figure had hoped to find. It slowly made it's way up to the front stoop. Then, it slowly removed it's hood. Light chestnut locks fell in waves, and forest green eyes shone with unshed tears. She shakily pulled down the bundle's blankets to reveal an infant child. Looking upon her son, she let her tears fall.

Why was she doing this?

Why did she _have_ to do this?

Was it so impossible for her to live a happy, peaceful life with her lover and child?

She knew the answer, and it was yes. It was far too complicated being who she had to be as it was, but adding a child into the mixture would certainly spell disaster. But she was hesitant. What if her son was like his father and herself? What is he was one of _them_? She stroked one of the infant's round cheeks softly, and shook her head. If he was indeed one of them, he would be put even more at risk. Her boss was already on her tail for skipping out of work the past few months, and he would most definitely disapprove of her little miracle. This had to be done. She gazed once more into his amazing violet eyes ('_Just like his_.' She thought), and slipped a silver chain over his head. Hanging from the chain was one of her oldest and most treasured possessions – her old Iron Cross. She looked at her son fondly; finding her favorite item from her Teutonic Knight days suited him very well. She never wore it anymore anyway, so she thought it perfect to give to her child.

She sighed once again, and gazed into those deep violet pools for what she knew would be the last time. She whispered her final goodbye.

"I will find you again someday if it is the last thing I do. You will not go your whole life without knowing your family, for I find that a fate worse than death. I know, my son, you cannot understand a single word I say to you now, but I will say this anyway. Remember, Samuel, I will always love you, no matter what." With this, she tenderly kissed Samuel's forehead, and rapped loudly on the door. She placed her child down on the stoop, and swiftly fled.

Moments later, a middle-aged man with a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and thinning hair opened the door. He searched for who had knocked on his door, and upon finding no one, he sighed, and went to close it. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a sudden cry. He snapped his head around and stared at the ground, his gaze falling on the wailing infant. His eyes soften on the boy, and he gently scooped him into his arms. He searched the boy and his blankets for any sigh of his name, but all he saw was the coal colored cross hanging from his neck… until he looked closer at the child's lime green blanket. Embroidered into the material was a name: _Samuel E._, it said.

"Sam, huh?" muttered the man. "Decent name, I suppose." And with that he closed the door.

Elizaveta stepped out of the shadows, and sighed. She was filled with both relief and sadness. Relief because her son had been accepted, but saddened that Roderich would never meet his son, or even know of his existence for that matter. But there was nothing that could be done now. After all, it was forbidden for nations to have children; in fact, Samuel shouldn't even exist! But, low and behold, she had gotten pregnant by her ex-husband, and had his son. Now, she paid the ultimate price for her carelessness.

Being torn away from her child.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N Wow. Just wow. I did NOT expect such positive feedback for this story when I only posted it, like, yesterday (day before? I dunno)! Thank all you people who alerted and favorited! And for all of you who reviewed *takes fresh cookies out of oven* have a cookie! They're chocolate-chip! **

**Yes, it is that kind of story (not gonna say what you said cause that'd be a spoiler!). And yes, it with a STRAIGHT couple! I just love Austria and Hungary too dang much to NOT give them a story! As for our dear little Samuel, I just really like the name! I actually tried looking it up on one of those "what's your name mean" things, and it Samuel was a Hebrew name that meant "God's word" but I like the Hungarian meaning a heck of a lot better! And no, this story does not take place in Hungary, as I do not know much about the country other than some of it's history. I made the setting of the story New York because a) I've been there** **multiple times and know much more about it, and b) I have a back-story for it, which will be told later.**

**Long-winded response is long.**

**On with the story!**

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><p><strong><span>21 Years Later<span>**

"Hah!" The young man swerved out of the path of the saber, the sharp tip barely missing him. He thrusted his own weapon towards his opponent, the other gracefully dodging the attack. He grunted in exasperation. He paused for a split second to wipe his brow, but that was enough for his adversary to find an opening, and land a touch. The young man looked down to where the saber touched his chest, and sighed heavily, slumping where he stood. He removed his mask, revealing light chestnut hair and vibrant violet eyes.

"How come I always lose to you?" He was granted with a light, feminine laugh as his response. His opponent removed their own mask, letting poker-straight raven hair fall to their shoulders. Chocolate brown eyes twinkled in mirth as she patted her friend on the back.

"Come on, 'Sir Sammy'! It was just a friendly match! No need to get your panties in a twist!" The girl exclaimed. 'Sir Sammy' just shook his head at her, the odd flyaway curl at the front of his head matching his movements.

"But I _always_ win!"

"I'm the exception."

"Shut up, Maya." Suddenly, the young man's wristwatch began to beep insistently. He smacked his forehead and groaned. "Aw crap! We're late for the gig!" He shot a pointed glare to the Latino girl next to him. "I blame you for distracting me."

"I blame you for not being able to lose gracefully."

"Shut _up_."

"Make me, _Piano Lad_!" She mocked jokingly. He shook his head once again, but this time a small smile on his face. Ever since he was a young child and had first played Jonathan's piano back at the Home, people had called him 'Piano Lad' as a play on words from Billy Joel's famous song, _Piano Man_. It was the first full song he had ever played on the piano, and it had always been his favorite. He remembered the day he first played it perfectly.

**/Flashback\\**

_He was only five at the time, and Jonathan had come into the playroom to call him for dinner. The small boy sat at the piano in the corner of the room. He had only ever used the instrument to sing silly songs with the younger children, such as Sam. The boy had always had a keen interest in music and had declared he would be the best pianist in New York early on. Now, he sat on the bench, trying to recall the song that had inspired him to finally try playing. He played it over in his head a few times before even touching the ivory keys. Jonathan leaned against the doorframe, seeing if little Sam would live up to his own expectations. _

_The boy then reached up, and began to play the piano._

_What a sound it made! Jonathan let his jaw drop as the familiar tune floated by his ears. Sam played with the skill of a pianist _at least_ three times his age! He had heard someone play the song at a local piano bar, and that man, a professional, sounded like an amateur compared to the five-year-old. But what really floored the old man the most was that the child was playing _without _sheet music! _

_He let Sam finish the song, then immediately began clapping his hands. The little piano protégé whipped his head around to see who was so impressed by him. Upon finding it to be his caretaker, his face flushed bright red in embarrassment. _

"_I – I'm sorry," he cried. "I d – didn't think you would l – let my play, so I did it behind your back! I'm s – sorry, Jonathan!" The small boy stammered. The graying man chuckled good-naturedly, and strode over to the boy. He patted his soft chestnut hair, and smiled warmly down at him. _

"_Don't be, Sammy. That was some of the best piano I've heard in a long time! Maybe I should start giving you lessons, though I don't think you need them. Would you like that, Sam?" He asked. Sam's features lit up in joy and he rapidly nodded his head._

"_Yeah! I'd love that!" Jonathan chuckled at the boy's eagerness._

"_Alright then! How about we have your first lesson after dinner? Then the other boys will be able to hear you play, too." The child nodded again just as vigorously, then latched onto the old man's leg._

"_Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" He cried as if it were all one word. "I won't let you down!"  
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**/End Flashback\\**

It was one of his fondest memories. But now was no time to reminisce his childhood. He and Maya had to get to the club before their band mates and manager killed them.

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><p><strong>Reviews make me happy enough to make more cookies! <strong>

**(If you don't review, I will PERSONALLY ask England for his scone recipe.)**


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